He also told me that he had once been married, although he did not volunteer many details about his family.
I told him about Thomas.
For the first time in a long while, speaking about my husband did not make me feel as though I was reopening a wound. Daniel listened without interrupting or offering the usual phrases people used when they wanted grief to disappear.
When I finished, he looked toward the sea.
“Some people leave us,” he said softly, “but the things they teach us remain. The difficult part is remembering that we still have a life to live.”
His words stayed with me.
The following morning, I saw him again near the beach chairs.
He approached me with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy who had just thought of something outrageous.
“Margaret, I have a proposal.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It’s a photograph.”
“That’s less dangerous.”
“Not an ordinary photograph. I want you to give me a piggyback ride.”
